Still Waters (23 page)

“No.” Anna voice was hard. She took a long swig.

Megan raised her eyebrows. “It was just a question.” More fences, more cows outside. Clapboard farmhouses with American flags. Children’s toys in the driveways. A field of sheep, looking like dingy cotton balls with legs.

Anna sighed, capped the bottle with one hand, and handed it back. “Aunt Linda and I don’t really get along, okay? She’s never liked me, because I was always Uncle Thomas’s favorite. She’s jealous.” Anna’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

“Oh.” Megan searched her mind for a new subject. Making Anna mad was never a good idea. She glanced at her friend’s toned arms. “How is it that you already have a tan?”

Anna’s face lightened and she laughed as if she knew how great she looked. “Ten hours in the sun every day? I’ve mostly been working in the garden this week.” The corners of her lips turned up and she lingered over the words, as if drawing up pleasant memories.

“By yourself?”

“No … Uncle Thomas has some full-time help. Dave and Sarah. They’re, like, twenty-five.”

The road was straight now, and the cows had given way to open fields of some kind of low, curly plant. Anna pressed her foot on the accelerator. She gave Megan a significant look.

“Okay, I give in,” Megan said. “Come on, what’s the surprise? I know you’re dying to tell me.”

Anna seemed to hold herself in for a moment, then burst out, “Oh my God, Megan, I
met
someone and he’s so perfect! I was going to wait and not say anything until later, but I just
have
to tell you. His name is Jordan and he’s one of the other summer hands. He started the same time as me, and he’s so sweet. We’ve been hanging out all week and it’s getting really serious. I think that he could be, you know,
the one
.” She was practically bouncing in her seat, her eyes hot and bright.

Megan could feel sweat break out on her upper lip, despite the breeze from the open window. “Oh, wow!” she said, trying for simple excitement. Anna hadn’t gone out with anyone since she and Mike had broken up. No one ever said it was because of what happened at the party, but by the time school started in the fall, Anna and Mike were over. During the initial explosion, Megan had sobbed and apologized. Anna called every single night to tell Megan just how furious she was. Then after one month exactly, Anna never spoke of it again. She would completely shut down when Megan attempted to broach the subject.

Anna watched her, glancing frequently at the road. Megan licked her lips. “That is so great.” She felt like she was balancing on a slick stepping stone in the middle of a creek. One misstep and she’d fall in. “I’m really happy for you.” If Anna could find someone new, maybe the wound would be healed. The wound Megan had created. A fresh wave of guilt swamped her, somehow undiminished despite twelve months.

Megan reached over and grasped Anna’s hand for a second. “I am so happy for you,” she repeated, looking right at her friend.
Please, Anna. Believe me. Should I say something more? Like an anniversary apology?

“Thanks.” Anna squeezed Megan’s hand and then released it to turn onto a narrower side road. “I’m happy for me too.”

The weeks of the summer stretched out like a long, murky river. They would be together every day, sleeping together, eating together. She had to get it out in the open. She had to say something about the anniversary.
Okay. Say it now. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry … You know, today is one year … I’m so glad we’re still friends after
…” But the passage of a year weighed on Megan and instead she let out her breath and rested her head against the scratchy blanket. They were quiet for a few miles. The breeze blowing through the window was cooler now, almost refreshing. Trees were everywhere, huge towering oaks and maples with long grass laid over in swathes around their trunks. They passed an old red brick house, like something out of
Pride and Prejudice,
then a mowed pasture with horse jumps. The next house was a massive Tudor concoction surrounded by landscaped grounds. Megan blinked. “I’m sorry, are we in another state? Why does everything look like it’s from a Jane Austen novel all of a sudden?”

Anna laughed. “I know, weird, isn’t it? It’s all farms and cows, and then it turns into this super-fancy area called Ault Hill.” They passed a twenty-five miles per-hour sign and Anna slowed, downshifting. “It’s all big estates. A lot of people just come out
here on the weekends to ride their horses.” She gestured at a cream-colored barn that looked bigger than their high school at home. “Uncle Thomas has one of the only working farms in this section. He says the county association is always calling, asking if he wants to sell, so they can break it up into estates.”

Anna flicked on the turn signal and braked rapidly. Megan saw a stone pillar with a plaque set into it reading, “Given Farm.” In front of them stretched a long gravel driveway, flanked by open pastures, which disappeared into trees up ahead.

“This is it,” Anna said, turning into the drive. “Welcome home.”

Emma Carlson Berne lives in Ohio with her husband, Aaron, and her son, Henry.